Dragon Skeleton

 Happy Halloween! Today seemed like a good opportunity to post some pictures of one of my better efforts. This is a fully articulated dragon skeleton. each bone has been individually hand carved out of basswood. I like the way the blonde wood plays against the darker ceiling in this hanging. For me this piece is a good synthesis of my love of fantasy and folklore and my passion for natural history and anatomy (I've previously discussed my fascination with bones Here.).  The skeleton is roughly goose sized and that of a Common Sea Wyvern, or Brown Drakie. There is an entire biological profile behind her, complete with adaptations and social behaviors My personal fantasy world grew  fairly elaborate, to the point where there is evolution and speciation taking place. I will delve into that topic later. For now, I hope you enjoy!

Reoccurring themes: Masks

              I find that I make a lot of masks. As Halloween is just around the corner, it seemed like a good idea to delve into the archives and talk about them. I like to make masks because they are relatively a simple form with infinite variation possible. A mask is traditionally something of a ceremonial or magical item. Masks have power. Maskwork may  be one of the oldest  formalized performance techniques and can get incredibly sophisticated.  The dichotomy of masks fascinates me. They can be used to as a disguise to conceal the wearer's identity (in fact in Venice  people became so enamored with the anonymity masks worked their way out of the ballroom and into everyday fashion. I read somewhere that wearing a mask pin on your lapel was a sign you wished to be left alone), or reveal it (this gets into a whole intriguing area of psychology. Masks can be used as a catalyst to tap into areas of our  subconscious that we may not have easy access to). Mask performance can be incredibly liberating and incredibly sophisticated. I have probably made more masks than any other one type of object. In India for one performance i personally shaped fifty of paper mache. i don't know how many have survived and have next to no documentation of them. I was surprised when I was putting this post together how few pictures I actually had in general. Some of them aren't the greatest photos. I think instead of offering my usual commentary on each piece, I'll just let you browse the collection on your own. Enjoy!

Fiction: Border Crossing Part II

                                                                II

                The massive stone doorway dominated the muddy patch of esplanade where it stood. Like a giraffe in a bathtub, it demanded the viewer’s attention by its sheer size and improbability.

         “How can no one know about this being here?” breathed Connor, astonished.

        Alba calmly regarded the ancient, cathedral sized structure

                “If you don’t cross the Bridge of the Wind it is not here. The Mirror Gate is a between-place. You can only find it by one path.”

                “Impossible!” Connor murmured to himself.

                “You would not use that word so often if you truly understood it” she said. He found Alba’s matter-of fact demeanor a bit trying at times.  She pointed at an elaborately carved decorative relief panel.

                “Can you read this inscription? No?  Roughly translated, and leaving out the unnecessary poetry, it cautions you to stay on the path. It says that a great danger may lie within if you aren’t mindful of what you cannot be without.”

 Conner felt drained and confused and they hadn’t even passed the second obstacle. This was nothing like he had imagined such an adventure would be like.  His incomprehension must have shown on his face.

“Thoughts”, she explained patiently “It is called the Mirror Gate because it reflects what is in your mind. Do not ignore the warning. It is potentially the most dangerous of the Three Passages, worse even than The Guardian. Focus your mind and stay on the path no matter what you see or hear.  Flee from your greatest fear or chase your heart’s desire here and you’ll be lost forever. Concentrate and stay on the path. Are you ready to go? “

“Almost”, Connor tried to think of something pleasant and calm while his heart pounded in his throat.  “I know that this is kind of a personal question, but what do you see in there?”

Alba gave him a half smile.

“Wolves”, she stated. “Always it is wolves”

 *****************************************************

“It is a bit much to take in at first” Alba sympathized. 

Connor gazed out the diner window attempting to absorb everything he had just been told. On the other side of the glass a tiny woman rode by on the back of an enormous pig laden with baskets of apples. 

“So…like a parallel dimension?” he attempted

She lapped a dollop of mayonnaise from her thumb with a rose petal tongue.

“If it helps to think of it that way, then yes” she nodded

“…And all those stories about witches and dragons?”

“A better word might be memories. We’ve filled in the gaps with our imaginations over the years and gotten some of the details confused, but for the most part it’s amazing how much the old tales have gotten right. There’s a whole other realm that overlaps ours and for some reason you’re one of the few who can see it. This is a dangerous position to be in if you don’t know the terrain. It is crucially important we get you an audience with the Light Queen as soon as possible”.

“Wait”, Connor sputtered “you’re telling me there really is a queen of the fai…”

“Never use that word!” barked Alba. She rolled her eyes “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Say “Good Neighbors” or “Fair Folk” If you need to refer to them. You never know what you’ll summon otherwise”.

“I don’t get it. Aren’t we talking about the little people with butterfly wings? What’s so bad about them? “

Alba took another bite of her second bacon cheeseburger, chewed and swallowed before responding.

“You say that as if you hadn’t just seen a Kobold” she scoffed

“You mean the guy with the squashed-in face? How dangerous could he be?”

  “If he had found out which eye you could see him through, the nasty little beast would have plucked it out and eaten it like a grape. He nearly got your name, too.”  She smiled sweetly. “As it stands, through him you’ve already annoyed the Unseelie Court and there’s far worse than him under the Dark Queen.  That’s why we need to get you allied with the Seelie Court, and quick! To answer your question, there are, in fact, two Queens of the Star People: one light, one dark, both powerful and both of their courts are perpetually at war with each other and now you are in the middle of it.”

Connor stared unseeing at the crust of his club sandwich

“Why does this thing with names matter? I’m sure I’ve said the “f” word before and nothing happened”. 

Alba snatched another fry from his plate.

“Before, you didn’t notice. The thing about the other realm is when you notice it, it notices back. Words and names have power. It’s a magic so old we’ve all but forgotten it on our side. Giving someone your full name is like giving them a piece of yourself. It can be used to summon and control you. Never give your name to anyone you do not trust with your life. When in doubt introduce yourself as ….Heron.”

“Why Heron?”

“You look like one”, she giggled. “Now I’d like to summon some lemon meringue pie!”

“You’re so tiny, where are you putting all this food?” he marveled

“Quick metabolism” she grinned.

“I’ve been duped!” He cried in mock despair “I wish you had warned me about this before I agreed to treat, you’re going to bankrupt me!”

“Think of it as the lesser of two evils. The last person I know who annoyed a kobold had thorns spring up everywhere he sat. It took months to break the spell, too.” Alba smugly popped another of his fries in her mouth. “Besides, I’m going to act as your guide in the Beyond. It’s the least you can do.”

“You’ll really take me there? When?”

 “I need to get time off from work and inform my pack leader,” she mused. “It should take about a week. Until then, remember these rules: Never tell anyone your full name or use the “f” word, never accept a bargain or a gift without understanding the true cost, be polite to everyone you meet, and under no circumstances eat or drink anything given to you from the Other Side.  Follow these guidelines and you just might survive long enough to make the journey.”

Connor chuckled uneasily.

“Pack leader? Don’t tell me…you’re some sort of werewolf” He had made the joke to cover his nervousness, but he could tell immediately he had said exactly the wrong thing. Alba’s thin frame stiffened and her eyes narrowed.  In a razor edged whisper she informed him:

“No. Not a werewolf, a lycanthropist!”

“Listen…No! I’m sorry! You’ve been really good to me, explaining everything and offering to help me and all. I really am grateful, and I went and insulted you without even meaning to!”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“I forgive you, Connor. You didn’t know what you were saying. It is exactly that sort of mistake that could cost you your life, however. Try to be careful.”

“I still have so much to learn”, He shook his head ruefully “I don’t even know the difference between a werewolf and a lycanthropist “

“Self control” Alba announced.haughtily.

 *****************************************************

Two days after Alba and Connor exchanged numbers and parted company, He found himself wandering in Riverside Park just before sunset. It was strange, he reflected, how quickly he had gotten used to seeing things almost nobody else could. It certainly helped to understand that they really existed, and for the most part would leave him alone.  As he wandered, Connor became aware of a sweet melancholy ambling music played on some sort of breathy flute.  The source of this melody was a satyr perched on an ornamental boulder in a small spruce grove, playing a reed pipe.  He sat down on a nearby bench to listen. The music drifted to a gradual finish. Without looking up, the satyr spoke.

“If you don’t want to appear to be talking to yourself, you might pretend to use your mobile telephone” The goat-man’s voice was rich and deep without the slightest hint of a bleat to it. Connor fished the device out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

“Thank you. That’s a really good suggestion” Connor said into the phone. “You play beautifully.”

The Satyr slid down from the rock and trotted over to join him on the bench. The fur of his legs along with his beard was a blotchy brown and white pattern. His face handsomely fused human features and a goat’s muzzle. The creature gave the air of youth and merriment one moment, and great dignity and wisdom the next. Connor wondered how old his new acquaintance really was, and wondered if concepts like age had any bearing on creatures like this.

“My friends know me as Cattail” offered the satyr extending   a thick strong hand. Connor shook it firmly.  He remembered Alba’s warnings.

“I’m called Heron.”  The name still tasted strange in his mouth.

Cattail nodded slowly. His amber eyes had the strange horizontal pupils of a goat’s.

“That suits you. You are Dooley’s new musician friend?” It was more of a statement then a question. Connor was surprised

“You know Dooley?

“Our world is smaller than this one these days. Word travels through it fast, and everyone knows the Invisible Man. He is a powerful friend to have.”

“Why do you call him that?”

The satyr exhaled slowly.

“Dooley gave himself that title. It is his joke. He says on this side you need no magic to vanish, you just need to hold a paper cup and mutter.”

Connor digested this.

“It’s not vey funny “he said finally.

Cattail turned his painfully earnest face towards Connor.

“No, Heron.” He agreed solemnly “It is not funny”.

The man and satyr sat together for a moment in silence.

“I’m going across soon, what is it like on the other side?” Connor asked

“The realm has many different faces, just like here. My glade is green, cool and peaceful. Naiads sing from the deep pool, and there are many kinds of fruit to eat. It is a beautiful place.” Cattail reflected on his home contentedly for a moment before asking, “You are going to visit The Queen?”

  Connor confirmed this was so.

Cattail ran his hand over his curved horn thoughtfully.

“It is a long and perilous journey. You will need a protector. Do you have someone to guide and guard you on your way?

“A girl has agreed to take me, but I don’t know if she’ll be much of a protector really.” Connor told him, “She’s called Ice.”

The satyr drew in a sharp breath.

“You do not know Lady Ice very well, I assume?” The words seemed to come from a long way off.

“We just met. Why?”

Cattail paused to choose his words.

“Heron, listen” he finally said “There are creatures across the border too terrible to contemplate, beasts of nightmares with no mercy and hearts of shadow. When these things awaken from their dreams in terror and cold sweat, Lady Ice’s name is on their lips. She is a fierce warrior and one of the most respected among the Wolves.  You could not have chosen better if you thought about it for many days. You are most fortunate in your friends.”

 ******************************************************

“It is time” Alba stated, “Let’s go

The gigantic doors began to grind open with glacial speed

“I have to return from this,” Connor thought irrelevantly “I promised Cattail we would teach each other some tunes”

Alba sighed heavily as the stone doors gradually swung open.

“Nothing is ever done without dramatics here” she complained theatrically to the sky, “It gets tedious”.

Connor laughed anxiously. He gripped the handle of his mandolin case and forced himself to concentrate on the trip he took to Yellowstone when he was nine.  With a deep breath he followed his guide through the Mirror gate and into Fairie.

Fiction: Border Crossing Part I

        Since several people told me how much they had enjoyed "Haunted", I decided to try my hand at another story.  Interestingly, Dooley, Alba and Connor all started out as minor characters in other tales. Those of you who know me well enough to know my weakness for wordplay will appreciate the fact that when it came time to give Alba a surname, I resisted the urge to make it "Kortuna" or"Tross".

Without further ado, here's the first installment of "Border Crossing"

Enjoy!

    Border Crossing

          “Just keep walking and stop looking down!” chided Alba.

Connor swallowed and forced his eyes away from the brightly lit party boat in the icy river twenty feet below.  The ancient rope bridge gave another sickening lurch.

           “I may not actually be mentally ill, but I have definitely lost my mind.” He told the night air under his breath. He tried to focus on a fixed point on the horizon like all the books said, but it was difficult to choose one among the brightly lit city skyline when the slightest breeze made the bridge sway. He checked the strap of his mandolin case again and tried focusing on the pommel of Alba’s sword. This did not help.  

         “I still don’t see why we couldn’t cross over there” Connor complained pointing at the remarkably stable looking suspension bridge upstream.

         Alba shot a reproving look over her shoulder and sighed dramatically.

          “I know I explained it. You keep thinking in terms of conventional geography. We could get to the same shore that way but it would be a different realm.  This is the only way, see?”

          Connor did not see. He never liked heights at the best of times and crossing the river at midnight on a frail rope bridge that might technically be imaginary was not the best of times.

         “As tall as you are, I don’t see how you can be afraid of heights”, Alba stated airily “It must be traumatic for you to get out of a chair.”

             Connor swallowed hard and did not answer.  He knew she was only trying to lighten the mood but the only thing that would do that would be for him to stand on solid ground again.

        “If it weren’t for that homeless man I wouldn’t be here right now”, he thought, staring at his own blanched knuckles.

                                    *********************************************

           “Do you have anything that you can give a poor soul who’s down on his luck?” slurred the beggar, holding out a grimy palm towards Connor.

         The old man’s face was gaunt and wrinkled as a walnut. His matted beard would probably become white after the next rainstorm.  His ragged clothes smelled of whiskey, sweat and earth. People walking through the park were making a wide detour around him.

        Connor invented a code that he lived by when he moved into the city. Part of it was that no matter how drug addled or lunatic the person addressing him appeared, he would always respond politely. He would never allow himself to forget that they were a person too.

         “I’m sorry, sir. I just spent the last money I had getting this banjo repaired.  Unless you want a tune, I’m afraid I have nothing to give.” Connor expected the old fellow to swear or shuffle away disappointed. Instead the beggar clapped his filthy hands clapped and crowed with delight.

          “Aha! That will do for me! A tune on your banjo will be just the thing to lift old Dooley’s spirits. Play for me, lad! Let it be a merry tune”, Dooley nodded slowly with the sagacity and certainty only available to the very drunk.  “This old world has enough sorrow in it”

         Nonplussed, Connor made his way to a nearby bench, unpacked the instrument and checked his tuning.  Another one of his principles was that he never refused to play when asked.  He brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes and began to pick out a jaunty reel that he learned just last week from his friend Tom.  Halfway through the first phrase he was amused to remember it was called “Whiskey Before Breakfast”. Dooley shut his liquor blurred eyes and began to sway appreciatively. Before long, his sway had turned into a loose jointed, inebriated, shuffling sort of hornpipe. Connor found himself chuckling as he played.  The laughter proved infectious. Connor realized as he began to improvise on the theme that he was now in the middle of a small knot of people who were laughing and clapping along with the song.  He finished to applause and the audience dispersed. About ten dollars had been dropped into his case. Connor fished out the money and pressed it into Dooley’s palm.  The old man eyed him suspiciously. For an instant Connor could have sworn the beggar’s eyes became clear and focused.

         “What’s this for” Dooley demanded

         “For you”, Connor replied “, I played you a tune and that tune made money, that makes it your money.”

        “A gift freely given?” Dooley asked, apparently confused.

        “That’s right.”

      The beggar struggled with the concept for a moment.

     “And you want nothing in return? You ain’t even going to tell me not to spend it on booze? ”

     “Would it do any good if I did?” countered Conner, laughing.  

     “Gift freely given” Dooley told the sky. The intoxicated slur was gone from his voice. The beggar’s eyes had suddenly become sharp and bright as though they had emerged from behind a cloud.

    “Had you said or done differently, lad, I would have walked off without more than a fair thee well”, Dooley addressed him with authority “but as you’ve done me a good turn asking for nothing in return, I must respond in kind. Your visions are real, son. Blocking them out with medicine is doing you no favors.”

    Connor could feel the blood drain from his narrow face. He had never told anyone about the hallucinations, not even his best friend Tom.

    “What? How did you… what are you …. That can’t be!”

     Dooley gave an avuncular chuckle

     “Typical of people nowadays. You run into something you can’t understand and you just deny it and assume that something must be wrong with you. You try to cure yourself before you even understand what you’re dealing with, and usually make things worse. That’s the age we live in I’m afraid.”

     “But I see things that can’t possibly be there!” protested Connor

     “That you believe can’t possibly be there” corrected Dooley “Tell me, since you know so much, do you see your visions with one eye and not the other?”

     Connor nodded mutely. He could not believe he was actually having this discussion.

      “They ever tell you to do things, or do they mostly just leave you be?”

      “They let me alone, but my analyst says…”

    “Doubtlessly a fine person”, interrupted Dooley “but they don’t know the first thing about it. Mostly when people see things that others cannot it’s a sign of madness. They’re seeing what isn’t there. Then, there are rare folks like you with the Sight.  You are seeing what’s really there, and what few others can. What you see can be, and is real. Stop taking your pills and you may learn something worth knowing.” 

     The old man’s eyes suddenly snapped out of focus. Dooley took a lopsided bow that nearly overbalanced his body and stumbled off down the path.   Connor packed his banjo and left the park as if in a dream. At the gate he looked back to convince himself that he hadn’t imagined the whole exchange. Dooley was engaged in a heated argument with a tree.  Shaking his head, Connor wandered off and tried to forget the whole thing.

        ****************************************************************************

    The next morning Connor found himself staring at the two white tablets in his palm, unable to bring himself to ingest them. He slid them back into the bottle.

   “What the hell, it’s just for one day.” He thought as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door to teach his first guitar lesson at the shop. Nothing strange happened all morning.

        That afternoon at the crosswalk of Oar St. and McCLancey , Connor stood beside a regal looking woman in a business suit waiting for the light to change when he heard a scuffling by his leg. Looking down he saw an odd little man who didn’t even come up to his knee. The spindly limbed creature had a look of intense concentration on his Pekinese -like face and one long fingered hand deep in the woman’s handbag. He extracted an expensive looking phone from the bag and a wide predatory grin split his stringy red beard. Conner instinctively snatched the gadget away from the little man.  Connor shot him a reproving look before turning to address the woman. She had clearly not noticed anything.

    “Excuse me miss, but this just fell out of your bag”

   Startled, the woman took the offered phone.

    “I didn’t even hear it drop. Thanks! My whole life is in that thing. I don’t know what I would do if I lost it” Without a backwards glance the woman crossed the street and turned into the doorway of a tall building.

     “Master is very clever to spot me”, chirped the little man in a surprisingly falsetto voice. Connor had expected a bullfrog croak from the stout little figure. “Tell me which eye you can see me out of, Clever Master!”  He was grinning sycophantically up at Connor with an impossibly wide mouth filled with tiny pointed teeth. The little man’s fawning demeanor failed to conceal the cold menace in his bulging eyes.

    “I am nowhere near fool enough to tell you that” Connor curtly told him

     The creature gave what it clearly believed to be a jovial laugh.

    “Master is clever indeed! Master must tell me his name so that I may properly in his service”  

    “Little Man, you have business elsewhere!” barked a stern woman’s voice from behind, causing them both to jump. The source of the voice was an ash blonde woman. She probably stood about five feet tall and every inch of her radiated indignation. The little man bowed deeply and simpered

      “Your pardon, My lady but I was merely asking my friend a question”

      The woman’s blue eyes narrowed with disgust

        “He is no friend of yours”, she sniffed haughtily “and you will get no answer”

       “Forgive me mistress, I meant no offense! “The creature groveled.

       “You have business elsewhere”, she stated imperiously. Connor realized that her slight accent was probably Russian.  “You should be off to discover what it is now. Do not mistake this for a suggestion.”

        The little man’s eyes bulged in abject terror. He bowed and scraped several steps backwards before bursting into a lopsided sprint into the mouth of an alley.  The woman turned her penetrating gaze on Connor.  He felt uncomfortably under scrutiny.

        “That”, she informed him “was a very stupid thing to do.”  

         “So I should have just let that…thing rob her? “ Connor demanded, feeing childish and indignant. He was treated to another critical stare.  She sighed

        “Probably not”, she admitted “but sometimes it’s wisest not to interfere. Most folk know me as Ice.” He shook the proffered hand,marveling how small it seemed in his own

        “ I’m Conner Davis. Nice to meet you.”

         The woman seemed slightly taken aback. She studied him for a long second before she appeared to reach a decision.

     “My Name is Alba Petrovavich“She smiled “and you, Connor Davis shall buy me lunch now.”

    “Um…Okay. Glad to. But why?”Conner asked, confused.

      Alba's smile widened knowingly as she counted the reasons off on her fingers:

     “Because I am hungry, because you need to know what I have to tell you, and because I have probably just saved your life!”

          

c. J. Ryan 2011